MJ

WOW.

To think 11 days after my last post, I would be writing his brother Michael had passed away. 

On the morning of June 26 2009, I woke to the shocking news. Michael Joeseph Jackson had been rushed to hospital in a coma. Not long after, pronounced dead. Cardiac arrest. I'm sure everybody who loves music can agree, the confusion and denial was shared amongst all of us. My heart, bleeding, my face almost as wet as love. 

He was my friend. He was a friend to us all. A family member to those who lived.

Genius. Pioneer. Idol. Magician. One of a kind.

On the 26th June 2009 a little piece of me died.

J J

....all night, you give me what i like.

intense highly explosive DYNAMITE pure DYNAMITE

type i could like

for my nephew

for my nephew by jamie

What interests me the most about this piece, is not just the imagery, but the juxtposition of the imagery and colour and the person. It lays very nicely. Simple and clean. Much the same as a 6 year old boy from Gruyere whom his mum still bathes, whom helps around the house, whom plays with motorbikes, whom has my heart. Much to the wholeness of the playful girls, the negative spaces inbetween bare creepy shapes therefore roughing out the youthful sugar in this picture slightly. There is more to life than meets the eye. And although Tys would always like to be at the front of the line, he not necessarily is. This is a statement of how Tyson has had to grow up, and although he is a beautiful little boy, with many troubles, the inner sweetheart comes alive at his most popular moments. And I would die for him. 

boys in red by jamie

futura mill

futura mill by jamie

'Churning out type styles.'

The BOLD may possibly be far too bold on the second piece, so the final was indeed the first piece. The focus should be on the typeface. The bottom one still sits so nicely. Almost like the wheels are in motion.

POMPOMPUNK

Pom Pom Punk is a young organisation that holds sweet monthly soireès around Paris. As you know I am a huge fan of French culture and draw much inspiration and dream far to much for here. There's a small website to checkout some of the more alternative trends going around at the moment in Paris. There was a tattered video of one of the parties but I can't seem to find it, alas...... jolie bébé

http://pompompunk.com/

miss you much

St Jerome's has long been a sanctuary for me and my friends. Whether it be a place to catch up with each other, maybe a farewell party or to see your favourite DJ, celebrating a birthday perhaps, a big night out, or pre-big night out bevoirs, this little gem, tucked away in Caledonia Lane, never let you down. Getting served wine in plastic cups, or vegemite jars, beers in cans, stools made from oil tins, speakers on milk crates and vintage clutter as you thread past. Drop the pretentious attitudes at the door, this place made you feel part of it even if you went alone. During the day you could stop past for a coffee and read Vice and then as the night swelled up, electronic beats or the sounds from the drums squeezed through huddled crowds and circles of motley mates and around the backyard. The building itself was hard to find if you weren't in the know and the crowd never seemed to be that young. You'd grab a dinky house wine or a longneck from the bar and tip toe out across the rickety decking and perch yourself on an old chair or up against the graffitti on the concrete. There were stairs to nowhere and the toilets were communal, filled with graffitti and sensitive scribbles, and at one point grass walls. Some of your favourite moments could be from the line to the loo, chatting with fellow crutch clutching folk which may have very well ended up your best friends for the night or so on. 

Right next door under a huge silver door and on a 4 storey flight of fire escape stairs was the open for not a long time bar...Shit Town. Dirty, dingy and completely unsafe, it rocked the hip of St Jerome's until it was closed down again. We were probably very lucky to have visited on several occaisions! Was it even legal? Bah...

On March 28th 2009, the night of my birthday, Melbourne saw one of it's coolest bars in history close. St Jerome's. I for one am devistated I couldn't make it to the party, I'd had a few too many tequila shots the night prior, but still, I have so many fond memories of legness nights and smoochy surroundings as I grew old with it. As we all grew old with it. Here are some photos from within it's existence. And stay tuned for the St Jerome's book coming out when it feels like it and keep your eyes open for the famous Laneway Festival which next year will be in it's sixth exciting year!!! We love you Jerome. Lots and lots 4 evs. Defs. Probs.

Click on pictures to enlarge a little.

photos taken from their facebook page & around the net

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfY695PeMxI

When I once lived.

There's a part of me that has missing lately. I've spent months trying to put my finger on it. Have I really been happy? Am I laughing because I want to, or because I have to? Why am I tired? Why do I think about my life now and compare it to 3 years ago? 5 years ago. 20 years ago. I've many times been heard to have said, that change is about embracing something new, something exciting, unfamiliar territory, moving forward, and I need it to survive. Well why is it that now I fear change? I 'am' changing and I fear it the most. My world is changing. My friends. My mind and my body. And all I can do is reach into the past and grab my most treasured moments to assure me that I am me. I am popular. I am funny. Quick witted. I am creative and fluid and going to be fine. I'm basically needing to turn back a few pages to convince myself I'm ok, as a validation. It's sad I know, but years out of the humble nest and one now has been flying for quite some time, and maybe, just maybe it's time to rest. But I don't want to rest. I miss feeling alive. I miss my feelings when I am free. I want to fall in love every minute again. I need to love. I need to be loved. I miss kissing. I miss laughing. I miss endless summers and Jocelyn's lasagne. I miss eating healthy. I miss paint all over the floorboards and Molly shitting on my expensive rug. I miss the internet cafe and coffee at midnight, and the way it made me feel when I'd have mail from you. I miss jazz falling to sleep, and lettuce from my burger all in my bed. I miss drinking games in the sunshine, and how happy we all were to be free. And how snug we were at 5am climbing walls being monsters. I miss the great big tree in the park, and I miss Ollie on the brach underneath me. I miss posing in the steamy mirror under candlelight. I miss locking ourselves in the toilet and doing lines. I miss runs on the beach. I miss when michael laughed at the seagulls and the way he opened my eyes to beauty by distance. I miss Mr C and his groovy music. And crochered cardigan day for George. I miss moonlight romance with my best friend, and Miguel Migs driving over the Westgate. I miss Stacey staying 2 years over her Visa, and never coming home. I miss snapper's tight blacks , and the way he'd sing on one of our 'mornings'. I miss our San Pellegrino installation in the kitchen. I miss Young Turks being free tonight. I miss writing poetry on the toilet at the Dalton. I miss Ali dressing up as an Armish woman, and floating in David's pool. I miss Billy Idol tearing up Tuesday morning, and Jess calling an ambulance. I miss dancing like madonna at Lauren's place, and her telling me George sleeps with the blinds open. I miss kissing Nathan at Q Bar when he split up with his boyfriend. I miss losing my mind to The Cure with Caroline, and everybody walking in and catching me. I miss seeing 2 pounds of cocaine passed over the table to Jude over a quiet lunch at The Vineyard on a Tuesday. I miss hearing my nephew speak my name for the very first time and calling me beautiful. I miss Hannah falling in love with me and trying to rob me from Michael's arms. I miss Josh going red when when I spoke to him, and Hammo for being Hammo. I miss Casey for enlightening my life and kissing me the way he did after Pony. I miss Casey because he is my Martha Stewart, my Kurt Cobain, my sprinkles. I miss chapel street at 7am, and Andre sucking my toes in the dark. I miss sharing cigarettes in bed with Joss and Snap, and making stories up about the weatherman. I miss the gay prostitutes across from our house writing notes and putting them in my car. I miss Vic bar. I miss seafood at The Waterfront. I miss having connections. I miss dancing five nights a week. I miss never going to gym. I miss the way I felt when I was with him. I miss red wine in my hair. I miss lammington on my ear. I miss heroin at Kojo's. I miss the blossom at dusk in summer. I miss late night hot beverages. I miss the messages to get to us there. I miss getting nude in the beach and smoking indoors at bars. i miss being Jim Morrison. I miss waking up not knowing which suburb I was in, and not knowing anybody in the house, and having no money to get home and no battery. I miss driving to Rhett and Vick's and pretending I wasn't a raver. I miss falling down the stairs because Judy has fleas! I miss the tram, on your knee.  I miss life. I miss love. I still have a chance. I need to listen to Jim. He always makes me feel at ease.

Here are some photos from 2006. When I once lived. (to be continued)

anna karina

Forgive me but, can one love another woman more than this? 

When I look at Anna, I see myself in a dream. Jean Luc Godard, he had all the luck. She, a breath of air nipping on his neck. Oh the perils of being an allure, behind her a million broken hearts. 

Anna and Jean met on the set of Une Femme est Une Femme in 1961 and married not long after, only to be divorced in 1967. He, in the end, made her a star. And we thankgod he did.

Some brilliant Godard films to catch:

Vivre sa vie (1962)

Une Femme est une femme (1961)

Bande à Parte (1964)

ummar i smell textas

peach by jamie

today

the more words you speak, the less important they become.

by jamie 

tin&ed

Two boys from Melbourne just tryin' to earn their keep.

Tin&Ed